


Never Again

by DarcyFarrow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: How I wish season 3 had ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyFarrow/pseuds/DarcyFarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his enslavement to Zelena, Rumplestiltskin makes a life-altering decision:  freedom and family mean more to him than power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

People kept coming and going and coming. Sometimes they did things–tinkered with the drip bag, changed her bandages, poked her with needles. Once two of them–male or female, he didn't notice, but in white, as they all always were–brought a shallow pan of water and a sponge. They mumbled to each other ("make him leave?" he caught, but the non-speaker just shrugged). They opened her gown–a new yellow one, not one of those puke green rags–to wash her. Only later did it register with him that her body was, for a few minutes, exposed to him and to them. All he saw, though, were the bandages, the unbandaged shallower scratches still angry red, the blue-black splotches. Marks she'd never worn before and by gods, would never wear again. Marks of a choice he made centuries ago, one very desperate, very wrong choice that not even his death and resurrection could correct. Marks that told the world Rumplestiltskin was still evil.

He woke out of his grief long enough to snap at Whale when the good doctor asked him, "You erased her gunshot wound once. Hell, you restored my arm. Why do you need us this time?"

"Because the wounds are too deep, too close to vital organs. That should be obvious to you, Doctor. And because she's too precious."

People not in white came, brought flowers and cards. He scarcely noticed. Most would cast him a quick glance, say a word or two, then hasten away. A few, an important few, earned his notice but if he answered their inquiries, he couldn't remember. Of these, a very few brought offerings for his comfort: shaving gear and a change of clothes, food that he never touched, coffee and soup that he guzzled. And words, soft, irritatingly placating words that he heard but didn't listen to. Except for a very few.

"We'd like to name him Neal, if that's all right." Snow White's hand rubbed her swollen belly. He nodded wordlessly, but a tendril of magic informed him the naming wouldn't happen: the baby was a girl and would arrive on the evening of the next full moon–which was probably a portent of something, but he was too distracted to See what. They surely expected something magical anyway: a True Love baby and all that. The dull thought made him glance at Belle's flat belly and tighten his lips. No baby for him and Belle, not soon, not ever. Any spawn of the Dark One–if indeed he were capable of reproducing–would be cursed from conception, reviled and exiled from society. No child deserved the birthright that came with being Rumplestiltskin's offspring.

He paid attention when Emma arrived. She brought him something useful: news. "So we burned the witch's body like you said. Seemed barbaric, kinda Puritanical."

"And the ashes?"

"Scattered them, like you said."

"Even the ashes have power to those with the knowledge and the will to use them."

Emma looked skeptical but didn't argue. "Are there–will there be others like her?"

"There will always be others like her. That's why there must be ones like you and your parents, Emma. And Henry and your sister."

"I suppose I'd better be ready, then. Regina's teaching me a few things, but her magic's more like nuclear bombs and tanks, y'know? It feels bulky to me."

"Regina had surprisingly few ambitions for her power. There's much she never bothered to study."

"You'll teach me? When Belle's back on her feet? Me and my sister?"

"No."

"No?"

"In my basement I have books, equipment, supplies. You may have it all. Learn as I did, if you want to learn: on your own. Find your own way. I'm through teaching."

She fell silent for a bit, then concluded, "You're through with magic. That's what you're really saying."

"I'm nearly four centuries old, Emma. I wish to retire."

"No, you wish to run away from it."

"No one extant knows more about magic than I do, and no one has seen more of its failures and disappointments than I have."

"What about the next Zelena or Cora or Pan?"

"You and Regina and Blue proved yourselves quite capable."

"I guess if anybody's earned the right to retire. . . .But if you're doing this out of guilt or, like, a tribute to Neal, I don't think he'd want that. I know he hated magic–"

"My magic, Ms. Swan. He hated my magic. And he was right."

"Yeah, but I think he changed his mind a little. Came to see it's not all back-and-white. I think he'd say, it's part of you. Use it for good. Don't shut it off." When he didn't reply, she changed tactics. "Can you, even, shut it off? I thought the only way to get rid of it was to dump it onto someone else."

"There may be another way."

She fell silent again, watching Belle sleep.

"It must never happen again, Ms. Swan. It took the full powers of all three of you attacking me at once to stop me."

"This isn't your fault." Emma straightened Belle's blanket. "You didn't do this. Belle would be the first to say that."

"My hands did this."

"They weren't your hands then. Zelena controlled them."

"As long as I have magic, this could happen again."

Emma thought it over. "When you're ready, then, I'll help you, if I can."

"I'm counting on it."

Regina came. Something different about her: he roused himself long enough to look. A different perfume, a different hairstyle, more relaxed, younger. She had love now, Henry's and that wand thief's. Friendship with Tinkerbell and Hook. A truce with the town. Idly he wondered what she would do with this newfound contentment. She wasn't the housewife type.

"Emma told me," she said, "about your intention. She thought you might change your mind after you'd had more time to think about it."

"Have you ever known me to change my mind?"

She smiled. "Your heart, maybe, but not your mind. I've always heard there's only one way to get rid of your powers. Unless you're thinking of another curse to take you to another land without magic?"

"You and I both know now there is no such place."

"I assume you're not planning. . . .Your son may be gone, but Belle needs you. And, though none of us would admit it, I think the town would miss you."

"No. I don't intend to, as Ms. Swan would say, 'off' myself. I have no further curiosity about oblivion."

"As long as the dagger is the seat of your power–"

"As long as that dagger is the seat of my power, no one is safe."

"Is there a way to unseat it?"

"There may be a way."

"The dagger's indestructible. Isn't it?"

"The dagger itself, yes, but perhaps its hold can be destroyed. The magic, broken. I intend to find out. I'll require your assistance and Emma's. And Blue's."

Belle suddenly drew in a deep breath, then released it without waking.

Regina paled. He supposed it was somewhat unsettling to lose her old mentor/rival/commiserator. He supposed it would be unsettling for him too. Freedom, so he'd observed, often was. "You're really going to do it, then. How soon?"

"Not until Belle is well." He squeezed his beloved's hand. "I've learned to listen to her opinions before I act on something that will affect us both."

A smile ghosted across Regina's lips. "Yeah. As difficult as it is for a couple of iconoclasts like you and me, I've been learning to listen too."

\----------------------

Their vehicles looked just as different from one another as the owners: Regina's polished black Mercedes was parked behind Emma's rust bucket Bug, which was parked behind Gold's solemn Cadillac, and they all were parked on a dirt driveway leading to Gold's cabin. Regina, Blue and Belle had never been here before, but Emma had, and Gold detected the uneasy expression the sheriff wore as she walked up to the porch with her hands stuffed into her jeans pockets.

"A rather lonely and isolated place," Blue observed as she seated herself beside Belle on the porch swing. Gold conjured lanterns and lawn chairs for his guests.

"A lovely spot for a peaceful weekend of fishing, I'd say," Belle argued.

"Or the practice of unholy magic," Regina said. When everyone glared at her, she defended herself. "Well, that's what we're here for, isn't it? We're about to defy the laws of magic."

"Yeah, like you aren't the queen of the magic lawbreakers," Emma snorted.

"Nothing unholy about what we're doing, Regina," said Belle. "Just the opposite. If it works."

"The first law of magic is that balance must be maintained. For every use of white magic, there must be a use of dark magic, and vice versa. For there to be a Reul Ghorm, there must be a Dark One."

"But it doesn't necessarily have to be Rumple," Belle objected.

"There are more than enough minions of evil to balance out the loss of one Dark One," Blue replied. "Even the most powerful one."

"Not so powerful," Gold muttered. "It can never happen again. Never again another Zelena."

"Agreed," Blue said.

"Agreed," Regina added.

"So how's this work?" Emma wondered.

Gold loosened his silk tie as he seated himself on the railing. "The legend goes: once upon a time, there was no light, no dark, just life. And from the marriage of life and love, magic was born, and it was neither evil nor good; it just was, until the day man stole it from the gods. At first man used it in ways he thought were good: to heal, to grow, to prosper. But he soon learned that what was good for him wasn't good for the rest of the living: his increase, for instance, placed a demand on natural resources that Nature couldn't keep up with. So to prevent man from destroying the world with all the 'good' he was doing for his own kind, the gods decreed the first law of magic: balance in all things magic. Creation must be balanced with destruction. Order must be balanced with disorder. And to maintain that balance, some practitioners began requiring a price be paid for every expenditure of magic. Some, but not all." He shot a nasty look at Blue.

""Your way was cruel and unfair. You took what the poor couldn't afford to give," Blue snapped.

"And your way was shortsighted and wasteful. I mean, turning a man into a cricket so that he didn't have to face his problems? How was that 'good'?" Gold snapped back.

"Thus the beginnings of white and dark magic," Belle surmised.

"Defined not by the gods but by the practitioners, based upon what benefitted them, not what served life."

"But the gods were disappointed with this artificial, self-serving division. Someday, they prophesied, white and dark magic would come together again and be whole, as it was in the beginning," Gold continued. "Maybe this is the first minute in that new day."

"When the leaders of both sides reach a detente," Emma speculated.

"More than that, dearie. When the leaders combine their power."

Blue shook her head vehemently. "This is a trick. The Dark One intends to take control of white magic."

"Does he now?" Gold growled. "What makes you think you can read my mind, you self-righteous insect?"

"Gold!" Emma interjected. "Name calling won't get us anywhere." She glared at Blue. "Neither will accusations. Look. You trust me and Belle, right? Belle knows Gold's heart better than anyone. If she says he intends to get rid of his magic, then he intends to get rid of his magic."

"I do say so," Belle assured them. "He has carried that burden long enough. He wants to be free of it."

"He wants his loved ones to stop paying the price for it," Gold said bitterly.

"And to honor Baelfire, and to protect Henry," Regina suggested. "Because as long as the Dark One can be controlled, there will be Zelenas and Coras crawling out of the woodwork to grab that dagger."

"If you doubt his heart, at least you can't doubt his love for Bae," Belle argued.

"No," Blue said thoughtfully. "Even now, Baelfire is that tiny spark of good in him."

Emma declared, "My superpower tells me he's legit this time. I'm in."

"I've known Rumplestiltskin most of my life. He doesn't lie; he leaves that dirty work to the people he's dealing with, lets them lie to themselves. And his love for his kid is one thing he would never play games with," Regina said. "I'm in as well."

"Well, Blue?" Emma prodded.

"Before she decides, there is more to the legend. Before they can combine their magic without obliterating each other, the Reul Ghorm and the Dark One must come to understand each other." Gold shifted uncomfortably, but forced himself to meet Blue's eyes. A squeeze from Belle's hand reminded him not to sneer.

Emma's voice dropped. "How do they do that?"

Blue answered. "Each must perform an act that's in the other's nature rather than their own. The Dark One must do something purely altruistic, and I must do. . . something evil."

"He has done," Belle pointed out. "He sacrificed his life to save us from Pan."

"No, to save you and Baelfire and Henry," Blue corrected. "An act of tremendous love, to be sure, but not altruistic."

"She's right," Gold admitted. "If he hadn't threatened my family, I would have walked away."

"So what do you plan to do, Gold?" Emma wondered.

His mouth twitched in a wry grin. "I'm not sure I'd know how to do something altruistic. So I asked myself, what would Belle come up with?" He reached into his pocket and produced two envelopes, one which he gave to Blue, the other to Emma. "And then, to make sure, I asked Belle, because what was mine in this world was hers too. If you'll take these documents to Francine Keene tomorrow, she'll proceed on your instructions."

"Francine Keene?" Emma asked.

"The president of the bank," Regina explained.

"Oh. No wonder I don't know her." Emma slid a thumbnail under the seal.

Blue gasped, then quickly recovered her composure. "Thank you, Rumplestiltskin. The sisters will be. . .relieved that we no longer have to struggle to pay the rent."

"What is it?" Regina rose to peek over the nun's shoulder. "Is that a deed?"

"To the convent," Blue said. "And the ten acres it sits upon, including the gardens and orchards. We will have a steady source of income, and the means to start the food bank this community needs."

Emma examined the contents of her envelope under the lamplight. "It's a check. It's. . . Whoa. One, two, three, five, seven zeroes with a fifteen in front. I don't know how to read that. What's seven digits?"

"That's a hundred and fifty million dollars," Regina answered. She gaped at Gold. "That's your entire worth."

"I think not, dearie. I'd like to think a man is worth more than the number of zeroes he can write on a check," Gold huffed.

"Made out to the Lost Boys and Girls Foundation."

"A nonprofit that will make grants to charities serving orphans and runaways. Your parents have agreed to run it. It will mean a lot of work, since right now it's nothing more than a cell phone and a laptop in an office across from Archie's, but they have agreed to take it on."

"But are you sure you want to give away this much?" Emma counted the zeroes again. "Your entire fortune?"

"It wasn't really mine anyway. I'll still have an income from the shop."

"How are you going to afford the upkeep on that big house of yours?"

"Ah, that's the selfish part, I must admit. The bank now owns that monstrosity. I'll be living in the apartment above my shop."

"But your. . ." Emma waved her hand at his suit. "And your Caddy."

"A gas hog," Gold complained.

Belle linked her arm in his. "And I prefer him in jeans. They show off his lovely bum."

Gold chuckled. "You see, Ms. Swan? I won't miss those things."

"So how is this an act of altruism, then? Not to be ungrateful, Mr. Gold."

"Of course not, Mother Superior. I suppose it's not as pure an act as might be desired, but the altruism most needed from me will come when I dispose of this." He removed the dagger from his jacket. Although he held it comfortably, a corner of his mouth tightened and his breath hitched. If this plan worked, he'd be giving up more than magic; he'd be surrendering immortality.

The fairy carefully folded the deed and returned it to its envelope. "Very well, Mr. Gold. Let's see if we can mix what you are with what I am."

Regina butted in. "Huh uh. Wait a minute. What about your end of the deal? You've got to. . . tear the wings off a bluebird or steal a baby's pacifier or something."

Blue set the envelope on the swing. "I already have performed an act of evil, and I've regretted it every day since." She looked steadily at Gold. "I separated a father and son, not for the child's benefit, but for my own."

"What the hell?" Emma yelped.

"You knew? Is that what you're saying?" Belle sputtered. "You gave Bae that bean, knowing Rumple wouldn't go with him?"

"The Dark One wouldn't permit Rumplestiltskin to go to a land without magic, and in those days, the Dark One was much stronger than the spinner. The sacrifice with Pan gives me reason to believe that's changed."

"You still have some explaining to do," Regina said. "Why didn't you want Rumple to go with his son?"

"Had he gone, he would have left the dagger behind and another Dark One would have been created–someone who would have sought the power. I wanted Rumplestiltskin to remain the Dark One, because all he sought was his son. As distracted as he was with that goal, he did relatively less damage than his predecessors. That's not to say he hesitated to harm others when it wasn't too inconvenient, but usually, it was. With Bae occupying his thoughts and, later, Belle occupying his heart, Rumplestiltskin was the least dangerous Dark One in history. His intelligence and his determination to find Baelfire insured that his dagger would never be taken from him–until, of course, recently."

"That wasn't his fault," Belle interjected. "He let the dagger go to save Bae. He made the right choice. He made the good choice."

"The good choice, yes, but not the right one," Blue corrected. "Zelena nearly killed us all. It took the three of us to stop her."

'You're a cold-blooded bitch." Belle folded her arms.

"And that's why she was able to separate a father and son," Regina surmised. "It takes a bitch to change the world."

"And send a fourteen-year-old to a foreign country, alone, unprotected, unprepared, penniless, not speaking the language," Emma's voice shook.

"Ladies," Gold spoke quietly. "I think we can agree, that was an act of evil and, therefore, qualifies. I think she has an inkling of why people turn to evil, and I have an inkling of the power of good in the world, thanks to Belle and Bae."

"We will never be at peace, Rumplestiltskin, but if you do what you claim you intend to, there can be a truce between us," Blue said, standing up. "I'm in."

The four mages and the observer walked away from the cabin and into a flat clearing, a good place for a portal, Emma said: she'd had plenty of recent experience with portals. They formed a cross, Regina and Emma holding hands to form the patibulum, while Gold and Blue holding hands formed the stipe. As soon as their hands clenched, Gold felt the fairy's syrupy sweet magic infiltrating his pores and clogging his veins. For her part, Blue wrinkled her nose. "Your magic smells like rotting meat and burning flesh."

"Ow!" Emma protested. "Stop burning me, Regina!"

"Fire is my primary element, Ms. Swan. Yours is air–as in 'airhead.'"

"We have to get past this," Gold urged. "If we get caught up in our differences, we'll never combine the magic."

"Remember Zelena," Belle suggested. "You worked together before. You can do it again, and you must, if you're going to protect your children from the next Zelena."

"This is the beginning of the end of the Dark One," Gold reminded them. "Don't block it–let your partner's magic in."

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He allowed the fairy magic, which normally would sicken and weaken him, to enter his body unhindered. His heart throbbed as his stomach turned over, but he let it happen, comforted by the warmth of Belle standing behind him. She held his dagger firmly in both hands; he could feel her fingers gripping and protecting his soul. His knees turned to water; his hands burned and shook. He clamped his mouth shut to prevent a cry of pain and frustration from leaking out. He felt his identity slipping away. Memories of the fairy tribe and the glen they had lived in back home filled his mind, fairy songs, fairy dances, fairy food and tutus. His head spun, but he held on, and when he thought he couldn't stand any more, he felt the ground rumble beneath his feet and a roar like an ocean wave filled his ears.

"It's here!" Belle shouted. "You did it!"

He opened his eyes and almost collapsed from panic. There was no ground beneath his feet, just a ferocious green vortex, and the four mages were floating above it. "My gods," he cried. "It's a tornado!"

"Oooh crap," Emma moaned. "We're gonna fall."

"No, hang on to each other. Keep drawing your partner's magic in. Resist the urge to cling to your own magic," Gold instructed. "Are you ready, Belle?"

"I'm ready."

"Don't let go of each other," Gold told the mages. "Keep the magic flowing, keep the portal open. We'll only need a few minutes."

"We're ready, Rumple," Regina assured him.

"We got your back. Go, Gold!" Emma encouraged.

"Now, Blue," Gold called out over the roar of the vortex. "Let me go, and grab Emma's and Regina's hands."

"Good luck, Rumplestiltskin." As Blue released his hands, he seized Belle's hand and dropped into the whirlwind.

When his foot found solid ground, he straightened and waited for the roaring in his ears and the spinning in his head to stop. A hand tugged at his: he remembered his fellow traveler and helped her to stand. "Are you all right?" He couldn't hear her answer, but she nodded. She showed him the dagger, tucked into her belt, and they smiled.

"Breathe deep," he advised, setting the example. They continued to hold each other, just breathing and waiting. Behind them the green vortex swirled but the roaring dulled.

"Ready?" He asked after several minutes. She nodded and they proceeded through the Valley of Eternal Winter. The vault had closed and snow had covered it, but the Dark One instinctively knew where to go and the dagger vibrated in Belle's hand as they grew closer. "What if the key is gone?" she asked.

"That," he pointed to the dagger, "is all the key we need." He stopped in the center of a clearing and took the dagger from Belle, pointing it at the ground. He murmured a spell and the snow blew away, exposing the vault, which then opened to reveal a pit of roiling tar.

He shuddered, feeling the pull and the call of the magic therein, the original magic he'd spoken of earlier, neither good nor evil, just raw power. It wanted him back. It wanted him to come home.

"Wow," Belle breathed.

And that was exactly what he needed to reclaim his identity. He was about to send the Dark One home, but here, holding his hand, was Rumplestiltskin's home. She smiled, nervous but trusting him completely.

"Three hundred years," she mused. "You've shared your mind with him for longer than these trees have stood. In a moment you'll be free."

For the last time, he examined his name etched into the blade. "Yeah. Free of that voice constantly pushing, chiding, ridiculing me. Free of the burden of magic. Free of the rage crawling under my skin, prodding me to destroy."

"Free of the guilt. Free to enjoy your life, your family."

He hung his head, hiding his face behind his hair.

"Bae is gone, but he left you two wonderful gifts: his forgiveness and his son."

Gold nodded. "Aye, his son." He raised his face and smiled. "His hope. And I'll make damn sure Henry knows who his father was. Thank you, Belle." He squeezed her hand. "For reminding me Bae lives on." He raised the dagger over the roiling black mass. "It took me nearly four hundred years, but I'm finally letting it go, son. I'm going to be the man you wanted me to be. Henry will have two grandfathers he can look up to." With a quick glance at Belle, Gold drew in a deep breath of cold, fresh air and released the dagger. It dropped silently into the tar and was unceremoniously sucked under.

Just as unceremoniously, the voice in his head stilled and the power that thrummed in his fingertips went dead. A sinking sensation pulled his now-heavy body towards the earth. His joints ached, his lungs burned with cold air. He wondered idly if he might need eyeglasses soon.

"How do you feel?" Belle stroked his hair.

"Old. A little scared. Human." He turned her away from the vault as it closed. "Let's go home."

\------------------

"Do you miss it?" Regina asked. They were leaning together on the swing set, watching Henry receive a fencing lesson from his other grandpa.

He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry. At least you have potions and spell books. You don't have to go cold turkey."

"Yeah, I do."

"Do what? Have potions or have to go cold turkey?"

"One or the other," he quipped.

They watched the lesson a little longer. Regina never could abide silence, however. "Have you seen Blue since then?"

"Once. She came by the shop, asked for donations for a rummage sale."

"But really, checking you out."

He nodded. "She thought she was being subtle about it, but she sent a tendril of magic through me, taking a reading. She seemed more relaxed after that. Guess I passed her little drug test."

"I never did get to tell you, but I'm sorry about Baelfire."

"Me too." Gold sighed heavily. "Me too." He changed the subject; neither of them had ever figured out how to deal with death. "Did you take Henry to the tailor's yet?"

"He fussed and fidgeted the whole time, but yes, he's now the proud owner of a tuxedo."

"The first tux. A big moment in a boy's life."

"I'm not sure he sees it that way, but he does look quite the gentleman in it. And he's been asking what he should do about the bachelor party."

"The what?"

"He's taking his role as your best man very seriously, Rumple. He agonized over the fact that he's too young to buy liquor or hire strippers for the party. I told him you'd rather have ice cream anyway."

"You know me so well."

"Of course, for the bridal shower, we have no such limitations. Emma's got a contact with Chippendales."

He groaned. "I'm very fortunate that for some strange reason, Belle finds wrinkles and gray hair sexier than tight abs and grinding arses."

Regina chuckled. "We both got lucky. Do you suppose they wonder sometimes what they've gotten themselves into?" A car horn tooted and she stood up straight, waving. "There's Robin. Gotta go. Well, old friend, if you ever get the DT's, come on by and I'll give you a shot of magic."

He snorted. "Never again, Regina. Never again."


End file.
